Compendium Sabriel
by Symmet
Summary: Short stories/ficlets having to do with Sam and Gabriel that didn't fit into any multi-chapter stories. Will be added to over time.
1. Hunger

_"Hunger is a good discipline. You learn from it." - Ernest Hemingway_

_..._

Sam sat there for a good ten minutes, almost kneeling, in the center of the room, knees against the floor, head bowed, blood soaking into his jeans.

Blood soaking into everywhere.

He felt it in his hair, clumps of curdled death, a splash across his cheek, drying quickly, crusty and crackling, slippery between his hand and the hilt of the knife, but _coagulated_, sticking to his fingers, keeping them, too.

He regarded the massacre almost detachedly, all of his emotional energy being expended on not moving, clamping his teeth and clenching his jaw just to stop his tongue from darting out, a white prison. Unable to breath through his nose because it made his stomach roll, because he suddenly felt it curling in his muscles and thoughts.

_Hunger_

It coated his arm, drenching through the fabric, and his skin could be bubbling for all he knew.

Sam suddenly found a scintilla of energy, began to struggle to his feet.

It hung strong on him, making him desultory, gluing him to the floor. It wasn't syrup or honey. It was molasses.

It made wet, protesting, squelching noises as he dragged himself up, staggered a step forward. He had been breathing minutely through his mouth, but now he was breathing heavily through his nose.

The _smell_ bombarded him. He felt the urge to wretch, to drink, the hunger and disgust susurrous in his mind, making his hands shake. He felt the spasms of gagging coming on.

Luckily he hadn't eaten anything recently.

The hunger rushed over him.

Ok, maybe not "lucky".

_I can't do this_, he thinks in calm hysteria.

_No._

Before he can make the conscious effort to stop himself, because he's so tired, and afraid, because he'd spent so many years automatically doing it, every night before he went to sleep.

He prays.

Back before he knew, _knew_ they were real, he rarely prayed for something. Once in a blue moon, when he was worried bone-deep about Dean or Dad, or, more recently, prayed that it was all a dream, first when Jess died, then Dean.

He hasn't prayed since the night Dean died, actually.

The voice melts off the walls, into his brain, making him close his eyes.

"_Sam?_"

He hadn't been thinking. Why, what was wrong with him? What was he doing? Why?_ Why?_

The hand tentatively reaches out to the younger brother. Sam can't see him - his head is bowed again, too much effort expended on not giving in. He doesn't realize now how strange it is that of all the beings to hear a prayer, this is the one that intercepts it. He still flinches at the ghost of the touch.

The trickster.

If he wasn't so preoccupied with not doing anything, he would be screaming.

Because of course the Trickster knew.

He'd been the one to "prepare" Sam for Dean's "departure", after all.

Another wave of nausea washes over him, and he doubles over, bending like blade of grass underfoot. He won't give in, though.

He can't.

"what are you fighting it for?"

The question is confused, almost exasperated, sounding annoyed by the perceived stupidity - or perhaps by how inconsequential the effort was.

Sam grits out a breath, somewhere deep in his brain the synapses for laughter fail to ignite in irony.

"I can't"

"wrong, buddy boy, you can, and you probably will."

The answer was too quick, too unwilling to see something else. It doesn't matter, anyways. Sam has bigger things to worry about than a nervous trickster in denial. Sam curls his fingers into fists, knits his resolve back together.

Pushes himself back up, smearing blood between his fingers and the ground.

"Then I _won'_t."

He makes it halfway across the room when everything goes black.

Wakes up back at the motel, knife gleaming on his nightstand.

Next to it is a lollipop.


	2. Cavity

**cav·i·ty** /kavitē/ - noun - _an empty space within a solid object, in particular the human body._

mid 16th cent.: from French _cavité_ or late Latin _cavitas_, from Latin _cavus_ 'hollow.'

...

Dean didn't know it, but Sam completely avoided sweets after Gabriel died.

It wasn't his fault - a brotherly codependency could only go so far in such matters. He noticed Sam falling silent or staring off into the distance more often, but it wasn't something that became more frequent - it worried him, yeah, but it became clear he wasn't losing Sam to whatever that was, and so he left well alone.

He wasn't going to be a complete hypocrite about it. It's not like he was the poster boy for sharing feelings or bonding or whatever. Besides, it wasn't as if they had any specific reasons not to be depressed at any given point in time. Things were technically getting worse, what with all the natural disasters and demons and angels and crap.

And if Sam got quiet or pensive sometimes, in the sort of way one does when thinking of the past, Dean wasn't going to mess with him, and he wasn't going to pry. Sam kept those things close.

It could be anyone's death grabbing at his thoughts; it could be any of the shit they went through on a daily basis.

The Apocalypse, the angels trying to do who knows what to them (besides _God_, who was MIA as far as anyone knew), the death, _ACTUAL_ Death, the horsemen in general, demons, monsters, _Lucifer_, that kid they watched have his eyes torn out an hour ago.

It could be _anything_.

Anything could be making him contemplative. If he chose the grim reality of this thoughts to cold, hard liquor, Dean wouldn't interfere just because he chose the latter. He didn't ignore it, of course, just let it be.

Besides, it wasn't as if Sam ever advocated a sweet tooth - he was practically a rabbit if you looked at what he ordered when they went out to eat. (_The hell would someone order a plate of only alfalfa sprouts for? Seriously._) It made Dean a little queasy to think it, but the closest thing to red meat Sam had ever consumed regularly was demon blood.

And that was off the menu, now.

Anyways, Sam stopped eating sweets. It only took Dean so long because he doesn't generally share his pie.

So when he does offer it, Sam _literally_ isn't supposed to say no.


	3. Lucky Strike

The charm on Sam's wrist immediately caught Gabriel's attention. He'd been about to tell the human that their brothers had flown off to who knew where, _Paris_, he was willing to bet, since Cas was adorably obvious like that, to work on "_destroying some wendigos_" as Dean had said.

Of course, when you're an archangel, you notice things, like cursed charms.

Especially when they're on someone you consider a friend.

"Samwise! Get that thing off!"

Immediately he was standing infront of the startled hunter, had grabbed his wrist.

"Hey, wait, no! Gabe, I know what it is!" The human says, just a tad annoyed.

Gabriel pauses but scowls, "And you know that there's a price for this sort of stuff? You get lucky for a day, and unlucky the next. You probably won't survive-"

"I already paid the one day debt" Sam huffed, waiting until Gabriel blinked and then released him. Something inside tapped a little, upset that he hadn't noticed a luck magic hovering over the human, no matter how sporadically he visited.

"Whadoya need it for anyways, Sambean? I could help you with any gambling, _ooh_, or pranking, if you like-"

Sam leaned in and kissed him, and Gabriel stilled as the hunter pressed close.

_Oh Sammy_, he thinks, _this magic doesn't work on archangels_. But he's not about to ruin the mood.

* * *

Gabriel decides just saying it out loud will rush the situation along, because despite his guilt at having not set things straight earlier, he's not gonna lie in bed with the human and keep it to himself for however long Sam expected the magic to work.

He's not even gonna berate the human for that because _really_? Hoodoo on an _archangel_? You couldn't kill one with the colt you _revere_ so much but some second-rate charm is gonna do the trick?

He contemplates how to phrase it for a moment, finally scrapping his delicate application of words because that will probably mortify Sam way more, anyways.

And maybe a tiny part of him wants to relish Sam's expression when he says, "Sam, hate to break it to ya, but that thing's bust on me. I'm immune to hoodoo, kid."

Just the barest moment before that hits home and the hunter sits upright in alarm, "**_What!?_**"

"Yup. That was _allll_ me." Okay, so maybe he's slathering it on a little heavy, but he knows that it's gonna be mega awkward otherwise, because... well because he's going to totally take advantage of this if he's not actively attempting to avoid it.

Sam groans and drags his hands over his face, "Of course. You _would_ be that easy." His hair sticks up and Gabriel ignores the small urge to pat it down. _Not relevant for the present situation_, he chides himself.

"Hey!" He says in playful indignance, "_Who_ was going to use hoodoo to get lucky?"

Sam sighed, "So the chances of you magically forgetting this in the morning have just dropped marginally, haven't they?"

Gabriel figured Sam was taking it all in stride, which he mentally applauded. He sat up, "Unless you got some Dinousian wine up your sleeves - which I know you don't, because I was very involved in the clothing removal process - yeah, pretty much."

* * *

"Sammster, what's wrong?"

But Sam just shakes his head, and yeah, Gabriel has a right to ask, but suddenly he's getting the archangelic premonition that maybe this is... he's not sure.

He's not sure.

It's not some fling, even though Sam wants it to be like one - because Gabriel hits on him - and Dean, and yeah, occasionally Cas, just to see Dean's face caught between morbidly disgusted and jealous - and he doesn't know, but it feels more serious than Sam is letting on and that means he won't talk about it.

Because Sam preaches emotional talks but he only excels at it in comparison to _Dean_.

Really he's just difficult until you try to get something out of the _older_ Winchester, who then makes the entire task _impossible_.

If this was serious, Sam wasn't going to share. And Gabriel isn't surprised, because Lucifer can do that to you - because Sam had had to keep everything of himself even closer after the Apocalypse had started, and maybe it was over, but he hadn't even had much of a chance to get back to _normal_ hunter levels of paranoid.

...

He feels a moment of guilt for what he's about to do, but hey, Sam had tried to influence him, too, even if it didn't work.

"Sam." He whispers, pressing energy into his breath, pressing his palm against Sam's skin, at the base of his hunter's neck. He almost flinches as Sam's eyes widen in surprise, shock, alarm, recognition, anger, before the hunter relaxes into him.

"What is it?"

Sam shakes his head into Gabriel's shoulder, "I can't really say."

Gabriel's already pushed the boundaries by putting a truth spell on the human, so mind reading isn't really an option.

"Please?" He tries, almost for the hell of it.

Sam looks up at him in surprise. Then he sags and sits up. Gabriel kind of regrets the loss of contact but doesn't move to stop him, instead sits up with him.

"Can I forget this in the morning?" the distressed human sighs into his hands.

"Depends on if you really want to." Gabriel says almost warily, "What's eating at you?"

He tentatively puts a hand on Sam's forearm.

For a moment he doesn't think the human will answer, even with the spell, but in reality it was just pushing the words, heavy, over the edge.

"Oh you know, just the usual," Sam says miserably, not looking at him.

"May have fallen in love with an archangel, nothing big."


	4. Anchor

Lyrics from **Anchor**, by Mindy Gledhill, no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

_With you in my garden_  
_its more peaceful inside_  
_I don't need anything else_  
_to make me feel alive_

* * *

Sam often found himself unable to sleep. Especially after the Apocalypse had started. Coupled with Lucifer's surprise dream visits, he had more reasons to be sleep deprived than not.

And usually, after about a week of short, insignificant naps, He either crashed or Dean made him crash.

And he'd fight Dean about it, but they both knew whatever snowball's chance they had now would be screwed a million times over if he died because he wouldn't stop researching, and Dean usually let him get to the point where he couldn't physically resist Dean, so it was in-between manipulative and lenient. And sometimes he managed to trick Dean or just seem more alert for longer, so he got away with it. And that was bad. Sam knew better, that this was not helping him as a hunter, could get Dean killed, or worse.

But it was Lucifer.

Lucifer was always there when he closed his eyes and he always smiled that cat smile and it made something inside Sam shudder flee and left him feeling empty. So he couldn't tell Dean that, because Dean didn't know, _couldn't_ know. It was already hard for the both of them, caught between the trust they had before Dean sold his soul and now. And he couldn't ask Cas because he knew Cas would tell Dean. Because that's what angel boyfriends do. So he stayed caught in the cycle of not sleeping, not sleeping, getting to the point where strangers looked at him when they thought he couldn't see because he was not only tall but now there was something off about his demeanor, and he didn't seem quite there, and he wasn't. Then Dean would book them a motel, wait for Sam to take a shower - and once or twice Sam had fallen asleep standing up, but never long enough for Lucifer to grab on to his dreams, or perhaps never long enough for him to remember - and steal Sam's laptop and hide it and wrestle him into a bed, usually, because Sam was sleep deprived but stubborn. And then Lucifer, with those small smiles that were terrifying because Sam knew Lucifer was trying to emulate a friendliness he didn't actually understand and it was all the more horrifying, all the creepier, because it was almost like a smile, but not quite. And it would repeat, and repeat, and repeat.

But sometimes, when his eyes were caught in that ephemeral shadow of not quite alive and not quite dead, bloodshot and breaking and he could almost feel the blood rushing under his skin, in his veins, rushing towards his eyes trying to keep them open, could almost hear the roar of blood pounding in his brain, something strange would happen. There was never a specific time for it, or if their was, he was too sleep deprived to notice, but it could be the first day or the third or the second or the fourth or the fifth. If there was a rule, he'd missed it, or maybe he was just too tired, just too thankful to look a gift horse in the mouth (which was a sign of how tired he was because Winchesters as a general rule usually punch gift horses in the mouthes).

Sometimes, he would fall asleep.

It wasn't an accident, it didn't sneak up on him, one moment he was sitting in the passenger seat next to Dean with a cup of coffee or in the motel researching, and then suddenly he was asleep.

And Lucifer wasn't there.

For whatever reason, Lucifer couldn't make it, or _couldn't get in_, and Sam enjoyed some nice, empty, Satan-free dreams, and would wake up with the taste of strawberries in his mouth, some minutes later, completely refreshed.

* * *

_You electrify me_  
_And I want to be in your arms_  
_for always_  
_for always_

* * *

When he finally - _it took him forever_ \- realized it always fell on a Tuesday, that was when something inside him got nervous. A little niggle of doubt, edged in that double-bladed beauty bearing the name _hope_. It was always sharp, and always had to be handled with care, and Sam wasn't good with trusting himself anymore.

But he had a feeling.

A feeling that Gabriel had survived.

And he wasn't sure how to feel about that because Gabriel was too many things all bundled up into different compartments of the people around him. There was the trickster, and the trickster was not only something he hated because it had killed Dean so many times, with such ease, but it had revealed the true darkness hiding inside of him, the part of him willing to kill Bobby thinking the Trickster wore his face, the part willing to drink demon blood.

And then there was the actual archangel, Gabriel, and maybe Sam should already have gotten over the fact that angels weren't quite as virtuous in their schemes as a person of faith - as Sam had been - would have liked to believe, but it always threw him. That Michael, for all that he was an asshole, was the guardian Archangel, and Raphael, even though he'd killed Cas, was the Archangel of healing.

And Gabriel was the Archangel of Judgement. And even though Sam knew personality-wise, Gabriel was sassy and crude and just a bit too wild to make you feel safe, a part of him still reveled at that.

And then there was the Gabriel that had died for them.

And he was different, because the Archangel of punishment wouldn't have, he's sure. Because the only other angel who had acquiesced to death was Cas, and Cas was different than all the other angels, which meant that Gabriel had to be, too.

And Sam didn't know what to think, because what did it mean?

If Gabriel was alive, was he in hiding? Was he too weak to take on a physical form, or maybe even do anything but help Sam sleep?

Or was he being Gabriel, and contributing from the Bahamas, while someone fed him lemon merengue pie?

Sam wasn't sure, and it wasn't like he could just pray to Gabriel.

Right?

And why the hell was he only helping Sam, anyways? Dean certainly wasn't having the same weird dream connections, Sam knew, but he had problems.

In the end, he fell into inaction, and promised himself he'd ask Castiel, but never quite found the words.

So when it happens again, several weeks later, and he finds himself actually dreaming, with a visitor sprawled across the identical to the crappy motel bed of Dean in this dream, he doesn't quite manage to stop the soft intake rushing out into a surprised murmur of, "Gabriel."

"Hey, Gigantor, how's it hanging?"

* * *

_Our love is swollen_  
_Made of the quietest shade of loud_  
_Holds me like an anchor_  
_Floats just like a cloud_

* * *

"I don't know what happened"

This is the first true admission he gets from Gabriel. It is not the first thing he has said, but the most important, Sam thinks, because the first thirty minutes consisted of vague avoidances and ducking behind other inconsequential subjects like, "How's the hot water run in that dump of a motel? Think they would mind if I turned it to hot fudge?", or, "Eh, you know, been around, saw Death, that was a fun reunion I don't want to do again, like, ever but will probably get to anyways since I'm here now and death is inevitable for everyone who hangs around you," or perhaps Sam's favorite, "So I'm late, I prefer the term fashionably. Well, that and I coined it. I mean, what happened was I went to the future to pick up some Ghirardelli because I had a hankering the fifteenth century could _not_ sustain, but I asked the guy hosting me if we could all just eat a little later, and lo and behold it became popular - nay, fashionable!".

Gabriel seems to have adjusted to the fact that Sam is not going to blow up at him or break down sobbing in gratitude (Sam feels a slight niggle of guilt at the fact that he's not broaching the second. Yet.) and is leaning against what has been claimed for the past two nights as Dean's bedside table - except dream version - and is locking and otherwise fidgeting with his fingers, as if the human flesh he's locked himself into for hundreds of years is not so much fascinating as calming, and he's getting used to being back in it.

Sam sits up. He hadn't wanted to pry, because it wasn't his business - not really, not after they let Gabriel die for them. After that, he didn't feel like he had the right, although likely, if Dean were here, he would have loudly voiced a different opinion. Which was probably why Gabriel had chosen to appear while Sam was dreaming.

Sam carefully thinks about it before saying quietly murmuring, "You said you saw Death?"

Gabriel huffed, smirking but not amused, "Oh yeah. Heard you guys were there for when big bro..."

He swallowed, "For when Lucifer-"

Sam can't take the pressure, he'd tried to ignore it, because he doubts Gabriel wants to hear this, but before he can reign it in he blurts, "I'm so sorry."

Gabriel looks up as if surprised, then quirks his eyebrows at Sam, frowning almost comically in his displeasure, "I knew what I was getting into, Sam. Hell, I knew better than you two chuckleheads."

And what does it say that he didn't even manage to work a stupid nickname in there?

Gabriel seems to realize this, and immediately sits up and gets off as if rejuvenated, but closer to an electrical shock, "Anyways, Bigfoot -"

But Sam cuts him off again, because while Dean is emotionally inept, it's like Sam can't help but barf emotional conversations out, "Then Thankyou."

Gabriel doesn't turn to look at him this time, but Sam can see from across the room that he shakes his head just a little and juts out his chin as he digests that.

Gabriel didn't want to be thanked, evidently.

Something about it unnerved him, perhaps, although Sam couldn't pinpoint what. He didn't know Gabriel well enough to.

"Didn't really do it for you, kiddo." Gabriel finally sticks with, but he's not looking at Sam, anyways.

"I know," Sam says quietly, "You did it for them."

Gabriel made an annoyed noise from across the room, "Shut up. I'm only just readjusting to emotions and I might just hex you if you keep it up."

Despite the uncertain edge of weakness in his voice, it causes Sam to smile.

"An hour in and you're already voicing death threats? I can't wait until Dean is in the same room." Sam said easily.

Gabriel turned, somewhat pacified by the change of subject, but still serious, "Yeah about that, don't go telling your favorite brother I'm back. Or Castiel. Or anyone, really, if you can help it."

Sam started at him blankly, "What? Why?"

Gabriel shook his head, "I'm not at full power, kiddo. I can't do much. I'm pretty much useless to you guys right now. I don't need him _or_ his positive attitude. I'm not even sure whether revealing myself to you was a good idea, to be honest. But I figured you'd figured, you know? Was about time I made it a little more official."

Sam stared at him for a moment before forcing the inner hunter, which demanded that he demand everything he could, into swift, silent submission.

"You haven't been useless to me." He says instead, because it's true.

Gabriel gives him a strange look, "Aw, Senpai noticed me. I'm flattered."

Sam frowned, "Maybe it didn't mean all that much for _you_, but for _me_-"

"No, yeah, sorry. I know. I'm...well I'm not full power in your dreams, Samster, but I'm something like it. I could bat Luci around in here for days without any candy breaks. It's...weird."

Gabriel stared at him for a moment, like an enigma he couldn't quite understand, because the enigma didn't know that it was such, and viewed itself so simply.

Sam ignored that because he wasn't sure what that was. Dream mojo? God's subtle yet curious interference? Archangel stuff?

"So when did you come back to the land of the living?"

Gabriel huffed and broke away from the look, which left Sam immensely relieved, leaning back on "Dean's" bed with his legs stretched out alongside one another, contemplating. Finally he shrugged and said, "Eh... maybe a couple days before the first time I interrupted one of Luci's dream calls. There might have been a slight edge of consciousness before then, but one can't be entire too sure when one is dead."

Sam nodded.

It seemed as if it was about to drag off into the awkward silence zone, but luckily, it seemed Gabriel had other ideas, suddenly swinging his legs over the side and getting off. He walked over to stand by Sam's side, "Anyways, Sammaloo, I didn't just come for shits and giggles. You're gonna need to wake up soon because something nasty and frankly kind of ugly this way comes. And it just won't do you any good to sleep through it, you know?"

Sam blinked at Gabriel, "Okay." He said slowly, then waited.

Gabriel grinned, "I was kind of hoping we could do the inverse wake up thing where I tuck you in and bop you and then you wake up."

Sam glared at him, "Gabriel, what-"

"Wow, such a great way to treat a guy who _died_ for you! C'mon moose man, give a little."

Sam sighed and laid back down, looking up suspiciously at a grinning archangel, "So no talking about this?"

Gabriel gave a slight, forced smile, "If you would be so kind."

Sam grunted, "Why aren't you helping Dean out, though?" As Gabriel bent over to bop him on the forehead dramatically.

Just as the dream wavers into grey, Sam can swear he hears, "He's already _got_ his own damn guardian angel."

* * *

_Our love is swollen_  
_Made of the quietest shade of loud_  
_Holds me like an anchor_  
_Floats just like a cloud_

* * *

After that, Sam started sleeping more regularly, and thus spent more time with his "secret holy roommate" with Gabriel reciting various stories - many of which made Sam want to never think again but a lot of which were fantastic.

Especially the one with the barbies and the rubber ducky collector. Although he would never look at chicken nuggets the same way again.

He'd agreed, and thus he didn't mention it to anyone, and as the days passed, Gabriel's blessings became more well known. Sam started feeling something strange happening, the influx of energy, the sudden awareness during a case, something sticking out to him and then turning out to be important. He'd be looking for a book and find it out on Bobby's desk ready and waiting, even though by the third time he can swear Bobby couldn't have possibly just read up on the various hex bag ingredients that would be used or located in Ireland. A monster will rush at him and a rug will pull itself out from under it's feet, or it'll trip on a stone, or, the most ridiculous one, a door will suddenly swing into it's face.

Subtle, Gabriel, real subtle.

His knife or gun will get knocked out of his hand but suddenly be laying right next to him, or he'll hear something from a long ways off, something quiet, beyond a normal human's hearing range.

Once, he could have sworn he caught a whiff of a werewolf, which he knows isn't something he's ever been able to do, and the wind is constantly coming towards him, preventing his scent from making it's way to anyone.

But whenever Sam would mention it that night, Gabriel would shrug it off or laugh.

It was when he'd cut off the last vamp's head in a nest and fainted that Gabriel finally openly did it.

"Sam, listen to me,**_ listen_**."

Sam blinks blearily up at Gabriel, who is crouched at his side, knees in the pools of blood all around them. Sam groans, "Gabe, hi, how's it going?"

"Sam, listen, I'm gonna wake you up in a moment, and you're gonna have to do yourself a favor because I can't."

Sam grunted hand to his head, "Cool. Great. Gimme a minute."

"No, Sam, **_Sam, look at me_**, you don't have enough time. You got some vamp blood in you and you need to get your ass to some water STAT, you got it?"

Sam's attention is drawn to a wound that had evidently been too close to the pool of blood, feeling panic and horror and bile rise up when suddenly two cool hands were holding his face and forcing him to look into a pair of golden eyes.

"Get yourself to some running water and I'll do the rest, kiddo, but you gotta do it quick, okay?"

"Gabriel." He said, in the panicked sort of way that meant _wake me up now!_

Sam gasped, eyes flicking open and catching the dim light on all the bodies around him, awake in the exact place he'd dreamed of moments before, and ignoring the strange sense of deja vu and numbness creeping around the wound, he pushed himself up and ran out of the barn. He doesn't know if he's delusional or if he really does remember hearing running water as they'd tracked down the two vamp nests, but he doesn't have time to try and contemplate on it. He just breaks into a sprint back towards the general direction of where they'd parked the Impala.

Dean isn't back yet - which makes sense, because Sam thinks the other one is bigger but he's not too worried because Cas has Dean's back if anything goes wrong. Sam ignores the panic squeezing his chest and almost stills when he hears it over the thumping of his heart - the trickling sound of running water.

He maneuvers his way through the undergrowth almost blindly - he's not looking so much as listening - but when he finds it he falls to his knees and kneels by it.

"Gabriel?" He tries, trying to force down the fear in his voice because that's helping no one and hunters don't need it.

_Get closer_

The murmur in his mind isn't an echo, but Gabriel's voice right in his ear, and Sam is all too glad to acquiesce. He's at the edge of the water, so he figures he needs to actually get it on the cut. He leans over the side and awkwardly props himself across the tiny stream, dipping his side into the water.

It burns instantly, which Sam accepts as a good sign a moment after a surprised grunt. It feels like acid burning away at the cut, but it's also creeping inside, forcing it's way through his veins and chasing the ugly blood out. After several moments have passed and he doesn't feel anything else, he hears a quiet but sure -

_It is done_

and he can tell that's _not_ the Gabriel he knows, but probably closer to the archangel, and all that divine wrath (and love, Castiel would probably add) and emotionless surety.

...

Dean is okay. A couple bumps and bruises, but Castiel did - as Sam had assumed he would - show up and take out half of the remaining vamps in a single go.

Sam and Dean return to the motel really fucking tired. And aching, like a pair of old grammas, but mostly tired. So Sam doesn't waste any time before getting in bed.

When he falls asleep, he's barely reopened his eyes to find a pair of very intense hazel ones staring right back. For a moment Sam is disarmed by the actual colors in them rather than the fact that Gabriel is evidently pissed, but he recovers himself.

Gabriel leans back with a very displeased look on his face. Sam waits, because it'll come out at some point, he's sure.

An hour passes. Sam finally opens his mouth to say - what?_ I'm sorry? Thank you? Anything interesting happen since last night?_ when it comes out, short and furious.

"Don't fucking die, Sam Winchester."

Sam and the archangel regard each other cooly for a couple moments. Sam ignores the little part of him that wants to question whether or not the term "die" can be applied to turning, although it probably can, seeing as vampires are generally classified as part of the undead, so to speak.

Sam is just beginning to think Gabriel is going to ignore him for the rest of the night when the angry archangel sighs and uncrosses his arms.

"Please." the angel adds.

Sam gives him a look, but figures words won't cut it, so he just nods.

Gabriel relaxes at that, and sits on the bed across him, "So, no more small miracles for definitely a long while. I used up most of whatever juice I had pulling that fancy trick out of the hat, therefore _really_, do stay away from the particularly dangerous nasties if you can't abstain from going near any at all."

Sam nods again, but the curiosity doesn't let up once he knows he's in the free and clear.

"Why the water?"

Gabriel huffs, like the first time he'd shown himself, smiling, but not amused, annoyed, if anything, although Sam wouldn't have known him well enough at the time to realize it.

"Water's my element. Thought you woulda known that, kiddo, you're the bookworm brother."

Sam sighs, then says "Evidently I missed that section, probably because I was hoping I wouldn't have to deal with anyone being immune to holy oil fire or prone to causing floods."

"Ooooh, sassy for someone who nearly got turned into a vampire. Maybe I should have let it happen. Luci would have flipped his shit really bad. I mean, he could have turned you normal, no problem, but the look on his face would definitely have been something I'm..."

Gabriel gave up on it, the tiny sliver of humor that he'd thought he'd felt in it slipping away. He looked tired.

Sam was probably at fault for that.

"So you can't physically manifest, huh."

Gabriel's gaze snapped up to his, sharp and almost wary. He chewed his lip. Sam waited patiently. Finally Gabriel does a little quirk with his head, like _fuck it, here goes_.

"Hypothetically, if an archangel was revived only to find himself abandoned in the abyss and his only doorway to the normal realm of mortals and things was one Sam Winchester's head, what would you say?"

Sam stared at Gabriel for a moment. "You're not joking." He says slowly.

Gabriel watches him uncertainly, starting to cringe. Sam sighs, "Well I'd say that would suck for one archangel."

Gabriel's look of waiting for something to explode falls of his face to be replaced by the sassiest look of disbelief Sam has ever seen.

And Dean can work it.

"What, nothing? I've been practically living in your noggin for the past month, bucko, and nadda to say about it? Zip? No problems? Seriously?"

Sam shrugs, it feels practically normal, now, and it's not as if Gabriel has been imposing, or doing anything other than help him.

"You know, this might possibly be why there's such a mix up about the whole vessel thing, because obviously you aren't giving the impression of not wanting any Archangels in your head very well."

Sam scowls at Gabriel, but only in the mildly offended way. He reaches behind him and throws his pillow at the angel, who ducks with a yelp of surprise.

"I know it'll break your heart to hear this, Gabe, but you and Lucifer are not _quite_ the same to me."

Gabriel recovers and looks back at the Winchester, eyes glittering mischievously, "Honeybun, I don't have a heart to break."

They stare at each other in mounting silence when suddenly a flurry of pillows is being thrown every which way, the occasional yelp of alarm or impending cackle of laughter heard amongst the rain of feathers.

* * *

_Our love is swollen_

* * *

When Lucifer catches them, it's bad.

Sam always knew it was going to be bad, obviously, duh, how was there ever going to be a good situation when Lucifer found him?

But Dean and Cas are there.

Because _Michael_ has made an appearance of his own.

Sam does the automatic thing, which is fling his arms in front of the other two protectively, ignoring Dean's snarl, and Castiel's prickly silence.

Because he doesn't give a shit if Michael is supposed to be stronger - _Lucifer_ is the scary one.

And Lucifer is _pissed_.

"Samuel," He says, with a cold smile, "Well, it _has_ been a long time, wouldn't you agree?"

Sam thinks this is something like the rage of a girlfriend whose calls, emails, and texts go ignored for several months.

Actually, he's almost one hundred percent sure it is.

He swallows.

Lucifer's vessel looks like it walked out of a horror movie and into open flame. Sam is pretty sure the only reason they can't smell rotting flesh is because Lucifer wills it away.

"You know, I spent a long time trying to figure out how exactly you managed that feat. It certainly wasn't Castiel over there. He's not strong enough to lift a car, let alone block me out. But I'm hurt, Samuel, I really am." Satan was slowly backing them up against a wall, and Sam would have kept keeping quiet, but Dean, of course, immediately says, "Sammy, what's he talking about."

Lucifer's gaze instantly flicks to Dean, which Sam thinks Dean deserves a little, but it's just as soon back on him, "Why, Sammy, you didn't tell them? Are you ashamed of me?" His voice deepens into something darker, crueler. Sam swallows again, ignoring his brother, and they're backing into a room without any other escape routes. Which is a great place to corner someone. Hunter 101.

Michael steps forward now, he'd been watching from a distance, but he recognizes when his brother is angry, and he's not about to let his vessel get mixed up in that. Not yet, anyways.

The air is supercharged with energy the moment he's standing next to Lucifer. Two feet between them, but it already feels like they've begun fighting. They both fall silent, Michael's eyes on Lucifer, and Lucifer's gaze starting to fall off Sam and lands on his brother.

It seems they haven't had an actual reunion yet, which is great but also terrifying. They're communing in silence. Not "angel radio" or whatever, Sam thinks, but just in the way you do when someone who means so much to you is nearby. Even if you're going to end the world to kill them.

Michael looks away, to Dean. He's still dressed as Dad, which Sam thinks is all kinds of fucked up, and, as Dean imparted earlier in his usually eloquent manner, Dean concurs.

"Dean Winchester, if you come with me now, Castiel and the others you hold dear will be spared."

Castiel tenses behind Sam, and Sam knows without looking that Castiel is giving Dean his best _if you agree to that I will be severely disappointed and saddened_ look. Dean hesitates.

Then suddenly he's flinging down a lighter at the archangels' feet.

"Actually I really think you two need to hug it out, talk about your feelings, maybe see a therapist, get all that angst out."

Lucifer's rage echos in the walls, causing cracks along the cement. Which lends itself to cracking open the ring of fire.

"Yeah, it was a long shot, anyways. No one wants to pay for a therapist these days-" Dean grunts just before Lucifer is holding him up by his throat.

"You know, Dean." Lucifer says conversationally as Castiel and Sam freeze, "I thought I disliked you before, but -" He thrust Dean into the wall, skull against cement, and Sam feels something inside him start to give way, "I realize there's almost literally nothing about you that I don't abhor."

Michael, too, it seems, does not like the way Dean is being treated, regardless of his actions, and steps forward, "_Lucifer,_" He says in a warning voice.

For a moment Sam thinks Lucifer is about to throw a punch Michael's way, but after a pause, he releases Dean, who slides down the wall to stand unsteadily on his feet.

"See, Sam?" he says, instead ignoring his brother, "The _things_ I do for you."

Sam feels the icy strings of dread starting to drag through him as Satan turns to regard him. Michael says to the hunter rubbing his throat, "I will not ask again, Dean. If you don't agree, we might have to start _hurting_ the ones you love."

Lucifer takes a step too close to Sam for his liking - or his brother's, because a sudden growl of, "Don't you dare _touch_ him-" before Lucifer gives a little wave of his hand and Dean is flung back - not too far, or too hard, but enough to get his point across, "You know, Dean, just because I _didn't_ crush your larynx doesn't mean I _won't_."

Lucifer turns back to look at Sam cooly, "In fact, if Sam holds out much longer, I might just start with Castiel. I'm sure _both_ of you would enjoy that."

It's not fair. Castiel had already died for them. Had already lost his family for them. Had already fallen and lost his grace.

But Castiel seems to be steeling himself for this, "Don't say yes." He says quietly, to both of the Winchesters with conviction.

_Sam._

Sam feels his blood run cold.

Lucifer's voice in his head is not welcomed at all, amused and patient after the violent display of power.

_I know about the rings. I know you have them in your pocket. And I'll even let you keep them, if you really think you can use them._

Sam stares Lucifer straight in the eyes. _i have no idea what you're talking about_. He thinks numbly.

Lucifer stares at Sam for one long moment before shrugging and turning to punch his brother in the face. Castiel goes down immediately, but Lucifer holds him up. Dean looks away and Sam already feels sick.

Gabriel has been silent the whole time, but Sam knows he's fonder of Castiel then he let on.

Or rather, he's fond of all of his brothers and sisters, which is why he'd tried to run away from this in the first place.

_Gabe, I'm so sorry_ Sam thinks, watching Lucifer beat Castiel down and then heal him so that he can start something new.

_If you're watching this, Gabriel, then get out. You don't have to be here, you've done enough._

When Lucifer starts cutting off Castiel's fingers is when Sam finally looks away.

Castiel has stayed silent, or as silent as he could, except for the grunts when Lucifer punches the wind out of him, or the hisses of pain when Lucifer cuts into his skin.

When Lucifer is somewhat satisfied with his work, he drops Castiel and snaps his fingers.

Sam feels something inside begin to snap when he hears a curse and a familiar, "What the Hell-"

_Bobby_.

Lucifer breaks Bobby's legs again, which is original. Then he breaks his fingers. Then his arms. Starting to get annoyed, he finally breaks Bobby's neck and drops the corpse to the ground.

After all, he can just revive him again. He turns to Michael, who is watching, stone cold and silent, although Sam thinks he was a little disgusted when Lucifer was hurting Cas, but Sam can't be sure.

"Michael, do you want to play with Sam or can I play with Dean?"

The look of horror on Dean's face tells Sam everything it has to.

Dean won't be able to handle it if Sam gets tortured, he really won't.

Michael, however, is having other ideas. He steps forward, eyeing Sam impassively, "I think Dean needs to be taught a lesson."

Sam feels something inside crumble into nothingness.

Dean looks almost relieved, because he'd been tortured for years in Hell, but at the same time as if it's almost worse. He knows what to expect now.

* * *

_Made of the quietest shade of loud_

* * *

Sam breaks when Lucifer scoops out one of Dean's eyeballs. Because he has the rings in his pocket. He can do this. He _can_. The whole point was that Death said they could only have his ring if Sam did this. It still feels wrong.

_I pray to thee, Gabriel, that you may forgive me for ruining your life and ruining everything really, and letting you die for us when I'm going to destroy any semblance of meaning that had by saying yes, right now. _

_..._

_God, Gabe, I'm so sorry._

_..._

He feels the edge of several months, locked up in his head while the nights wore on, playing stupid games like snakes and ladders and SORRY! and Monopoly, watching stupid reality TV because that's all Gabriel can get from insider Sam's head, or on good days, Doctor Sexy M.D., or when Gabriel finally figured out how to get the dream taste of chocolate ice-cream just right and made them spend the next couple of dreams actually sitting in it, or when Gabriel conjured up his memories of the library of Alexandria and let Sam spend forever asking him stuff, or when he showed Sam Mesopotamia or Egypt or early Greece, build up inside and cut him up from within.

_I love you_

"Okay, Yes!" He yells, because Lucifer is reaching for the other eye, fingers bloody, "Stop, stop _yes_! Heal him! Heal them all!" And he hates how broken his voice is because who were they to judge Gabriel?

Gabriel left for the same _exact fucking reasons_.

Because he couldn't watch his family destroy itself. Because Sam knew Dean would never let himself crack with Sam watching.

Lucifer dropped Dean, whose short gasp of, "Sammy-" was cut off abruptly by Lucifer's grace, no doubt.

Instantly the blood was gone from his face, but Sam would never forget the gaping hole, empty socket that hadn't been empty but bloody and morbid.

Castiel suddenly bent over, coughing, but alive, hands fixed. Bobby groaned and opened his eyes, sitting up.

Castiel cast a worried glance and saw Lucifer prowling towards Sam. Who refused to meet his eyes.

"Sam, no-" But his voice was cut off, too.

Lucifer smiled, "Samuel, knew you would agree in the end. And we're even in Chicago." As Sam stared at him furiously.

All he could think of was Gabriel. God, he knew that this was the plan but something about it seemed so wrong.

He didn't want Lucifer anywhere near him.

One step too close.

Then the light began to build. From Sam's chest.

Before anyone could do or say anything, everything was white, and Sam heard a rushing in his ears.

Then everything faded to nothingness.

* * *

_Holds me like an anchor__  
_

* * *

Sam opened his eyes to white.

It faded, but it was still white, just like comparing white crayons on white paper sometimes yielded different colored results.

He wondered if this was what it was like to be a vessel. He didn't feel like he was chained to a star...yet.

He sat up and then pushed himself into a standing position... right before something punched the air out of his stomach and sent him down.

He looked up, gasping, to see..."_Gabriel?_"

A furious Gabriel. One who didn't answer but just pulled him up and punched him again.

Sam didn't try to block the punches, he just accepted them.

Which was apparently off-putting. He was thrown down but no more punches were thrown his way.

"What the _FUCK_ was that, Sam Winchester!?", came the yell. Ah, a switch to _verbal_ abuse.

Sam took a moment to regain the ability to breath and think before grunting from the ground, "The plan?"

The plan to get Lucifer back in the cage by regaining control and using the horesemens' rings -

There came a snarl, "_NO_, that was you being _FUCKING SELFISH_."

Sam grunted, nursing an arm, "That, too."

Suddenly he was hoisted up again, this time by his collar, and he waited for another hit. Instead he was greeted with those eyes.

Sam is pretty sure they change in the light, because now, they're all warm golds, like autumn harvest.

The grip loosens and so he falls back down, to his knees, staring up at Gabriel.

Suddenly Gabriel's chin hits the top of his head, but not violently, just resting, and he hears a tired, "Stupid, fucking, idiot son of a..."

"...Gabriel?" He tries.

"_Don't_ fucking speak, I swear to Dad, just - just don't." But the pressure on his head doesn't leave. If anything, weighs just a little heavier on Sam.

Sam waits, ignoring the part inside of him that's screaming that he find out what happened to Dean, to Bobby, to Cas.

Finally - "You said something."

Sam moves then, tilting back his head to try and catch a glimpse of Gabriel because he's trying to understand.

Then he's pulled up again, steadily, this time, until he's at eye level with Gabriel, and it feels a little ridiculous, because it would be so easy for him to prop himself up and actually stand up, but he gets the feeling that he's not allowed to stand over Gabriel just this second.

Gabriel stares him straight in the eyes, starting again, "You said something... which cannot...be unsaid... to an angel."

Sam blinks at him blankly. _What could I have...?_

oh

A faint blush starts creeping it's way along Sam's neck.

That hadn't necessarily been intended to be a part of the prayer, and Sam had figured since Gabriel hadn't answered before that he wasn't there...

Gabriel seems satisfied, but not sated, he lifts his eyebrows, "Wanna take that back?"

As quickly as the blush had begun is stopped, Sam's legs swing out and he's standing over Gabriel, although firm hands still hold him by the scruff. Offended, he grabs Gabriel's wrists and pulls at them, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to move them unless the archangel let him, "I _think_ I know what love means, Gabriel." He says.

Gabriel gives a short laugh, "Oh honey, please, not to an archangel, you don't."

Sam recoils, "So it's funny to you?"

Gabriel looks at him incredulously, "No, sweetums, I'm telling you that you don't say that, and it's cute and all, like when fifteen year-olds go on their first date and come back and say, 'I'm gonna marry her some day', except you _don't_ say it to a fucking archangel."

Sam feels cold, "I'm not joking, Gabriel."

"And when they say that, they aren't joking, either, Sam, but face it, they have no idea what they're talking about."

Sam has to take a step back from that. What is he supposed to say?

The person he cared about most in the world was Dean.

And Gabriel had made him spend hundreds of days reliving Dean's death, in hundreds of different ways.

And he forgave Gabriel. He cared enough to say he loved him.

Sam pulls his emotions away from his head, because this will end badly if he lets them speak.

He turns away, knowing his eyes are shining, but the good thing is that being John Winchester's son teaches you to control your tears.

He sits down a couple feet away to recollect himself, "So what happened."

Gabriel stands there, silent, and Sam is starting to feel a physical pain in his chest when Gabriel finally says, "Luci and Mike are locked up for some quality bonding time in the Cage. Raph might get thrown in there soon if he doesn't start acting right around Cas. Everyone else is fine and... you've been in a coma for a couple days."

Sam nods, not trusting himself to say more than, "That's good."

He waits patiently for Gabriel to leave, but he can feel those eyes on his back, and it makes him bite his cheeks to stop the waterworks.

_fuck_

"Sam, you have to wake up, but of your own will."

Sam takes a careful breath in, because he knows that it won't be hard to hear the tears in his voice, "Cool. I'll get to that." at some point.

The silence stretches on before Gabriel gives a frustrated sigh and comes to stand next to Sam, "Perhaps I overreacted."

"No, I think you reacted fine. I got the message loud and clear."

Gabriel's silence is shocked.

"Sam, how the_ hell_ are you gonna tell me you took that to mean that I don't..."

Gabriel gives a displeased chuckle, then tries again, going for simplicity and hoping Sam would read between the lines, "Sam, I _died_ for you."

Sam looked at him too upset to be properly furious,"So _you're_ allowed to say you love me but not the other way around?"

Gabriel's answer is strained, "You can't understand our type of love, Sam."

"Oh, great, the typical angel speil, I can't possibly be in love with you because I'm a _human_, and if you love me, it's beyond my poor, stupid, human _comprehension_."

Gabriel's patience had worn away again, "To an angel, love means_ forever_, Sam, okay? That's all eternity. Angels don't have break ups or divorces. Humans, for all that I like them, they get tired, Sam, they stop. They don't do forever."

Sam snarled, and now, now he was standing up again staring this prick straight in the eyes, tears be damned, "What in the _everliving fuck_ would make you think I'm afraid of forever? What the **_Hell_ **would give you the impression that I wouldn't want that. Everything I've ever cared about has been taken away from me, Gabriel. _Everything_. You don't know what I would _give_ for forever."

He closes his eyes this time, tries to breath in and reclaim the tears that threaten to fall and drag him down with them.

A hesitant pressure alights on his back.

He _should_ shove it off. He _should_ walk away.

Gabriel seems to be expecting it, and Sam almost wants to.

But he wants to be close to Gabriel, too. And that want is infinitely stronger, infinitely subtler.

And from the way Gabriel's been acting he feels like he won't be seeing much the archangel after this, anyways.

"Sam."

"_Don't_."

"Sam, I-"

"_It wasn't meant for you._" He says sharply, tears coating his voice in that stupidly emotional way, angrily, just to cut Gabriel off, because he doesn't want to hear it.

"What?"

"You weren't supposed to hear that. It wasn't meant for you." I_t was meant for me_. It was meant for _me_ to know.

The look on Gabriel's is more than Sam can bear to see.

"Does it surprise you that I care about you Gabriel, really?" Sam says, feeling sick, "Am I _that_-"

"Shut _up_, Winchester."

Suddenly two arms are clasped around his neck, and their foreheads are pressed close together.

"Okay," Gabriel says, and his voice is a little shaky, "Okay, we're going to go through this to make it very clear."

Sam forces himself to continue breathing.

Gabriel takes a short breath, "Do you love me?"

"Unequivocally." Sam doesn't even hesitate.

Gabriel tenses, just barely, but Sam isn't sure if he notices because he's a hunter or because he's so attuned to Gabriel by now.

"What about Jess, Sam? Hell, what about Ruby?" Which they both know is a low blow, but Sam will ignore it for now.

"You said it yourself." He answers tightly, "A fifteen year-old who thought he understood what love was."

Gabriel looks at him like Sam is hurting him, but what else can he say?

"Sam, let me make it clear then. I can't... I won't be able to take it if you say yes -"

He looks Sam straight in the eyes, like he's begging him, "And then you change your mind. Okay? I don't -"

"Oh my god." Sam said suddenly, understanding.

Gabriel's gaze flicked up to him, ignoring the dad reference in favor of what Sam actually had to say.

"You're afraid I'll get to know you and then I'll dump you." Sam said blankly.

Gabriel's face contorted, "**_What_**, no, Sam -"

But then he saw the way Sam was grinning, eyes crinkling as they only ever had when Gabriel was being an idiot, or once long ago, before the Apocalypse had begun.

"Sam, I'm serious - "

But Sam had already bent forward to kiss his insecure archangel.

"I'm afraid that you'll hate me, too." Sam whispers into Gabriel's ear, and the previously complaining archangel stills.

"Hell, you already make it sound bad enough to be a human -"

"**Sam**, that's not what I was -" But he held up his hand between their faces, asking for this moment.

" - and I can't even _do_ anything about that. Shit, Gabe, I'm _terrified_, because being human doesn't even begin to cover all of the things about me that are fucked up."

He leans back so he can press their foreheads together.

But in the end, he doesn't have much to say. He opens his mouth to say something, but all that will come out is,"_Gabriel_."

The archangel's grip tightens, pulling Sam closer.

"I don't think you're fucked up." The angel whispers, "Otherwise I wouldn't have felt guilty enough about letting Lucifer maim your soul to die for you. You got it? Because what they'll never tell you, Sam, is that for all that Dean has the 'righteous' soul, yours was always going to be brighter. Because Lucifer's was always brighter than Michael's. And it's easier to ignore when it's not right in my face, but I saw what letting them lead you on your path would do. I tried to join the club and speed it up, but then when I saw you again... _Sam_."

Those arms clenched, and it almost hurt, but it a good way, because it was real.

"So _maybe_ I moved you and Dean-o out of the way of impending archangel, because I had some stupid idea that I could stay out of it directly but I can't even watch you get..."

A hand reached up to hold Gabriel's face. Then another. His eyes flicked up to meet two green ones.

They stared at each other, quiet, true.

"Then I died. Then Dad brought me back."

Gabriel's eyes became tortured.

"I won't ask you to understand what that felt like. I thought he'd abandoned us. Given up on us. _Forgotten_ us. Hell, I wouldn't have been too surprised to find out he died, like Raphael said."

Gabriel huffed, snorting, looking away, finally, because Sam wasn't interrupting and was letting him share what he'd kept to himself. He chuckled again, darkly, because here they were, Archangel confessing to Lucifer's vessel.

"Turns out he was just waiting to give us a second chance to protect what we care about."

A small smile suddenly made it's way to Sam's face, "I can't wait to see Dean's face when we tell him Cas feels that way about him."

The laugh rushed out of Gabriel like a firecracker, surprised into life by the spark of Sam's tongue.

"You ready to wake up, sleeping beauty?"

Sam snorted, "You here to administer true love's kiss, Gabe?"

A mischievous grin sprouts on the archangel's face.

"Maaaaybe."

Before he scoops the bemused hunter up in his arms.

"Gabriel, I _swear_ if I wake up in a dress I it will mean war."

"Oooh, Sammy, don't give me ideas!"

* * *

_Floats just like a cloud_


End file.
